


Re(lax) Bro

by jewtube



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Bitty is the Mom Friend, Comfort, Coming Out, I made some OC lax bros, LAX bros - Freeform, M/M, Real Friends, but it all passes rather quickly, getting through shit together, mentions of past trauma, tango is a good catholic boy, whiskey is scared of getting beat up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewtube/pseuds/jewtube
Summary: Whiskey has an eventful night with his friends, the LAX bros.





	Re(lax) Bro

**Author's Note:**

> so where i come from lacrosse nicknames are different than hockey nicknames, and they usually have to do with a persons physical appearance or an aspect of their personality rather than their actual names.

“So how’s your little hockey team working out for you, Connor?” Boomer asks as the two of them sit on the front step of the lacrosse teams porch. There’s a party going on inside, but Whiskey’s only there because he heard that a friend from high school would be there. To his disappointment and expectation, she flaked out. Again.

“I feel good about it.” Whiskey says before taking a long sip of his beer. “They’re all a bunch of weirdos, but a few guys are nice.”

“A few guys? Buddy.” Boomer’s hand comes down hard on his shoulder. “I’ve only ever seen you with one kid, uh fuck, um.” His free hand is waving wildly in the air as if he wants to catch the name out of thin air.

“Tangredi?” Whiskey offers.

“Yes! Tangredi!” Boomer might be a little drunk. “He should come over sometime. We’re not all jerks like the hockey bros tell you.”

Whiskey smiles at the idea of Tango hanging out with the lacrosse team. He chuckles at the image of Ransom and Holster’s reaction to the suggestion.  
It’s been a little over a year since he’s been hanging out at the lacrosse frat with Boomer and Tiny. The three of them had polisci together in first term, Whiskey starting sitting with them after the first two weeks after Tiny broke a chair in the twelfth row and the professor declared that all the athletes had to sit in the front row so he could ‘keep an eye on all of them’. They did most things together, except team events, of course.

With all the commotion that was going on in the lacrosse frat living room, Tiny somehow managed to find himself on the porch with two solo cups filled with straight vodka. He clumsily handed Whiskey one of them and poured half of the other into Boomer’s cup.

“You tryna’ fucking kill us bud?” Boomer asked after taking a sip of his.

“No way mate, not tonight.” Tiny towered over the two of them even as he stood on the flat ground in front of them. “Thought maybe we could get ol’ Connor here to live up to his fucking name for once.”

“You handed me vodka, you moron, not jack.” Whiskey tipped his cup to show him the clear drink.

“It’s all whiskey to me, Whiskey!” Tiny spilled his drink. “Besides, if you don’t drink, you’ll never have the courage to talk to a girl at one of these digs!”

“In your fucking dreams, none of these girls are my type.” Whiskey can feel the alcohol taking over, he’s not very tall or broad, so a few beers is all it takes for him to let loose.

“C’mon there's the cream of the crop to choose from! We got redheads, blondes, tall girls, there’s a girl here from my law class and she’s wicked smart!” Tiny’s hands fly up to his head as if to indicate how smart she really is. “Seriously dude, what’s your fucking flavour?”

“I don’t think we should get into this tonight, boys.” Whiskey laughs as he starts to drink from the vodka cup. They’re not letting this go yet, drinking might be the only way to get through it.

“There’s a girl in there who plays field hockey, she’s got thighs like a tree trunk man!” Boomer shouts into his ear as he swings his arm around Whiskey. “Do you like sporty girls?”

“What about Asians?” Tiny adds.

“Bookish girls?”

“Bakers?”

“Chubby?”

“Short?”

“Small feet?”

“Glasses?”

“Freckles?”

The two boys fire off adjectives and any other defining features of women they can think of. Whiskey’s mind is getting cloudy, he can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol, or if it’s just due to the fact that Boomer has a voice like a fucking freight train. He bottoms up his vodka cups and finishes the last gulp or two of its contents.

“Men!” He slams his cup down onto the porch beside him. “You guys aren’t gonna find me a girl because I like dick!”

Radio Silence.

“Fuck.” He rises to his feet and starts to make his way towards the road. _There goes the end of a beautiful friendship_. He thinks. Guess it was nice while it lasted. The Haus is only a street and a half away. It’s closer than his dorm room and Holster went home for the weekend, so he could probably crash with Rans. Or on the couch.

  
He makes it about three or four houses before he hears running behind him. _Fuck. They’re coming to fucking jump me_. He braces himself for impact, closing his eyes tightly. He’s smaller than most of the lacrosse team, so he could probably slip through their arms if they tried to grab his. The steps get closer and he raises his arms to protect his head. A hand grabs his shoulder to swing him around. On instinct he drops to the ground, hoping to protect his stomach and abdomen from too much damage. He waits.

“Connor!” Boomer’s enormous voice shatters the silence. “Jesus why the fuck are you on the ground?”

“He thinks we’re gonna pound him, Boomy.”

“What? Wiskowski stand up.” Whiskey opens his eyes to see the outstretched hand of Boomer. He takes it and is helped up, realizing how drunk he actually is once he’s standing. His throat is swollen, his breath starts to pick up, and his hands are shaking. Tiny wraps his arms around him in a tight embrace, Boomer joins in on the other side to completely envelope him in a group hug. Tears start spilling from his eyes and his body is wracked with sobs.

He pulls away from Tiny’s chest, and he sees the horrible tear face stain he left on his blue shirt. He frantically tries to wipe his tears away on his forearms, but more keep coming, so fast they’re almost impossible for him to catch.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs. “I’m sorry. I thought you were gonna hit me.”

“Has someone hit you before?” Boomer's voice is suddenly the quietest Whiskey has ever heard it.

“No, I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” Tiny slings his arm around Whiskey’s shoulder and starts steering him in the direction of the Haus.

The front door is locked, but Whiskey knows that Bitty keeps a spare key under the windowsill. They head into the living room and kick their shoes off. Whiskey sinks deeply into the couch and is joined by his friends on either side. The whole Haus is asleep, and Whiskey wants to keep it that way.

“How long have you known?” Boomer asks after they’ve all been quiet for a long time. Whiskey feels his throat swell again, it takes everything he has to swallow down the fear.

“Since high school. This guy on my team had the most beautiful voice. Anything he said was like gold being spun into words.” Whiskey smiled at the memory of his first crush.

“What happened?” Tiny leaned harder against him as if he was trying to make him feel safer.

“We held hands on the back of the bus on the way to our finals. After we won, I kissed him. He didn’t talk to me for a week afterward, I figured he didn’t want to have to deal with being gay in Wisconsin.”

“Guy sounds like a fucking douche. You’re a catch.”

“Thanks, Boom but he’s not that great actually. He got married a few weeks after graduation. He’s got like three kids now and he’s only like, twenty-one.”

“Sounds like he might be overcompensating.”

“Probably.”

The effect of the alcohol started to take their toll, Whiskey’s eyes felt heavy, besides him he could feel Tiny’s breathing regulate. He lets himself slip into sleep while in the protection of his friends.  
The sun bled into the living room and attacked Whiskey, hungover and now blind. He hears footsteps coming down the stairs and attempts to free himself from underneath his enormous friends.

“Team Brunch!” A voice calls, Whiskey groans as his mission to get off the couch was made in vain. Bitty must have heard him because he walks into the living room to find two huge men smother Whiskey on the couch. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Connor?”

Bitty pulls him out, and the force of him dropping to the ground seems to wake Tiny and Boomer. Ransom, as usual, runs down the stairs two at a time, making far too much noise for hungover ears. Ransom’s sprint to the kitchen is cut short when he spots the lacrosse players in the doorway.

“Um.” He looks between the four of them lingering around the couch. “You guys shouldn’t be here. We have a bylaw.”

“Oh lord Ransom, it’s Sunday. Bylaws barely count on Sundays.” Bitty huffs. “C’mon boys, Y'all can stay for some brunch if you’d like. I’m making waffles.”

Boomer and Tiny sheepishly make their way into the kitchen, followed by Ransom who looks quite suspicious.

“Thanks, Bitty, you didn’t have to do that.” Whiskey says.

“Well, the tears stains on the tall one's shirt don’t exactly match up with the height of the big one, so I'm guessing you have a pretty rough night.” Bitty puts his hand on Whiskey’s shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to about anything, I’m here. And I’ll probably have pie to sooth some sorrows.”

Bitty ushers him into the kitchen as Tango comes through the front door dressed in his Sunday best.

Whiskey takes a seat beside his friends, and Tango comes into the kitchen holding a box of strawberries.

“These are from Theresa at church.” He says as he sets them on the table. “I told her I was going to team brunch after service and she sends her love. How nice is that?”

“Glad to see you dressed for the occasion.” Whiskey pipes up.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Tango loosens his tie, which makes Whiskey’s stomach flutter. “I’m gonna go change my shirt.”

Boomer nudges him as Tango leaves the room. He leans in close his ear.

“So, Tangredi, eh?”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me at jew-tube.tumblr.com


End file.
